


red, white, blue

by psychamonia



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Betrayal, Execution, Festivals, if i have a writing style, no i don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychamonia/pseuds/psychamonia
Summary: Respawn? Respawn.The colors never fade.---A look into Tubbo's execution.(tw blood/death- no graphic descriptions)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 138





	red, white, blue

**Author's Note:**

> notes before you read: it’s a semi-realistic Minecraft au (respawn still exists, but the rest of the world is basically real life) and certain details are changed from the canon proceedings (different dialogue/actions and addition of minor events, like a fire)

Tubbo has always liked yellow. 

It’s the colors of bees, of honey; of the dandelions that sprout up in the fields during the warmer seasons. It was one of the colors of L’Manberg, of the walls that kept them safe from Dream and his army during the bitterest days of the war. 

It’s ironic. Tubbo is anything but safe, now. 

He stares wide-eyed down the barrel of Techno’s crossbow. The man is hesitating, eyes darting from Schlatt and Quackity to Tubbo and back again, but his hands are steady on the weapon. They’re warrior’s hands, with a concentrated stillness born from years of combat. 

“Wilbur?” Tubbo whispers, just loud enough for his earpiece to catch. “Help?” 

Wilbur’s voice crackles along the line. “Techno is on our side. He won’t hurt you.” 

“Okay,” Tubbo breathes, closing his eyes briefly. His heart beats fast in his chest, but he tries to calm it. When Techno turns, he’ll have to be ready- to fight or run, he hasn’t yet decided which. “Thank God.”

His eyes fly back open when Schlatt’s voice echoes over the platform once more. 

“There will be no traitors in my country!” The man roars. His tie flutters on the breeze as he flings a hand out to gesture. “My right hand man! Are you kidding me?” His anger makes him ferocious, eyes and face hard as he shouts.

Even Quackity looks hesitant, staring down that unbridled rage. “Schlatt, listen. We have him trapped. He’s jailed. I think that’s enough.”

Adjusting the knot of his tie, Schlatt calms enough to sound resolved. “It’s not enough.” 

“Wh- But- Schlatt, are you sure?” 

“It’s simply not enough.” He turns to make eye contact with Tubbo, who shrinks towards the back of the cage. The President’s never been particularly friendly, but his expression is terrible to look at, screwed up with vicious emotion. It crawls its way into Toby’s mind like a feral rodent looking for something to gnaw on. “Here’s the thing, Tubbo. I’ll put it simply for you. I’d rather rule alone than with you.” Schlatt looks back at Techno, raising an expecting eyebrow. “Well, Technoblade? Are you going to make an example of this traitor?”

“This is a stressful situation.” Techno replies, tone flat. He steps closer to Tubbo’s cage, and Tubbo presses himself closer to the wall, doubting the legitimacy of Wilbur’s intel. “I don’t do well with those.” 

“ _Wilbur?_ ” Tubbo whispers again, more urgently. His heart is speeding along, tripping over itself, frantically trying to convince him to run, to somehow escape far, far away from this place. 

“Stay strong.” Wilbur says, but even he sounds unsure. “It’ll be okay.” 

Techno’s deep drawl interrupts Tubbo’s desperation, bringing him back to the stage. “Tubbo, I’m sorry.” He says, raising the crossbow until Toby’s staring straight down the barrel. “I’ll make it as painless and colorful as possible.” 

“...What?” Tubbo tries to say, raising a hand cautiously in a futile attempt to block. “Techno-” 

Techno’s finger squeezes the trigger, and the world breaks into fragments of colors. 

_Red._ Schlatt’s tie whipping in the wind as he sneers at the scene.

 _White._ The flying sparks coming towards him, jumping and dancing from the canister.

 _Blue._ The pool beneath the stage (the _funeral platform_ ) he built himself. 

The first blow doesn’t kill him.

 _Red._ Blood on his hands.

 _White._ Techno’s tusks, bone-pale in the torchlight. 

_Blue._ The stretch of the night sky above, wide and open and free. 

( _Black. The space between lives is dark. The space between lives is cold. Tubbo hugs his knees to his chest and shivers, waiting for light and warmth to return._ )

Respawn? Respawn. 

The colors never fade. 

Red, like three bodies scattered abandoned on the stage. White, like the ashes of the burning festival, the stalls melting away into the flames. Blue, like the water that shelters Techno as he flees. 

Red, like Techno’s blood on Tommy’s knuckles. White, like the pit and its andesite walls. Blue, like Tommy’s wide eyes as he exits the Other Place, shaking like he’s seen the future and it terrifies him. 

Red, like the excited flush on Wilbur’s face as he talks of chaos and destruction. White, like the lilies Techno plaits into his hair, sympathy for the soon-to-be dead. Blue, like the glint of an old axe newly sharpened. 

Red, white, and blue. 

God bless ~~L’~~ Manberg.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! this one wasn't long but feel free to check out my other sbi + dt works :)


End file.
